Sober
by chickenwriter
Summary: A oneshot sequel to Shooting Star


**Sober**

Her eyes flew open, observing the room around her, as she had done for the last ninety-one days. She hated feeling the cold of the sheets next to her as she reached to turn off the buzzing alarm. There was no reason to set it for 6:53 am. But it had been done that way for the last six years. And she felt there was also no reason to change. The picture that sat on her night stand made her gasp with a sob. So early in the morning, and her mood was already ruined. She could hear faint squeals of delight filtering through from the hallway.

He was getting so big.

And he looked just like Great Grandpa Rupert. His soft brown hair and striking blue eyes. Little Philippe the second, or 'Junior' as they called him now, was a spitting image of the Renaldi Bloodline. Amelia had kept her name, just so the Renaldi family could rule for as long as humanly possible. Clarisse was glad that her granddaughter could be happy and deal with her duty at the same time. She only wished she had found a way to do that.

In a way she envied her granddaughter, who was chasing a toddling little boy at this moment instead of rolling out of bed and trying to get the courage to start the day. When she lost Rupert, she was back on her feet in a month, trying to put on a smiling face for her country. She felt back then that her country had grieved longer than she had. Within the time frame she faced now, she was already sure that she felt something for Joseph. But now...

There was no chance of moving on. No chance of going forward. No chance of a new man. No chance of letting go.

When Rupert died she'd had friends that told her that moving on was everything. That nothing felt as good as letting go. She'd waved them off, telling them she was all right, that she would be fine, it would just take time. And she was right. No one knew her better then she knew herself.

Until Joseph came along.

He knew her better then anybody ever had. He knew her wishes, her dreams, her mind, her opinions and her body like no one could. Not even herself. He read her like an open book. She read herself as if the pages were frayed, torn and worn away with the toils and stresses of time. She read herself as she was.

And that was one reason to miss him.

When he left, he took her with him. She hardly smiled, never met with the press, and slept twice as much as she used to. Mia tried so desperately to cheer her up. She brought chocolates, wine, Philippe, and anything else she could think of to get her grandmother back.. Clarisse even waved off her favorite teas. So this morning when she heard a knock on the door, she rolled her eyes, expecting another attempt at the impossible. She found the Queen of Genovia with a balloon in one hand and a piece of paper in the other. She had been right.

"Wanna escape security?" Mia asked when her grandma opened the door. Clarisse shrugged, and reluctantly followed along. She wasn't in the mood to have Mia beg her today.

"Where are we going?" Clarisse asked finally as they coasted down a country road. Not even the beautiful country side could lift her spirits on this three month anniversary day. The sixteenth was not a good day of any month for her. The balloon was tied down in the back of Mia's blue mustang, making a horrible squeaking noise every time they went over a bump. Clarisse had to inwardly laugh at the thought of the security running wild looking for the queen and her accomplice. Mia had left a note in her suite explaining, but they would never find it. They hadn't been the same since they lost Joe.

"Here." Mia said, pulling off into an open field.

"Why here?" Clarisse stumbled out of the car, after realizing no one was going to open the door for her.

"Write Joe's name on this." Clarisse cringed at the sound of her husband's name, but accepted the paper and marker Mia was handing her. She spelled slowly, letting a single tear slip out of her eye, trying to wipe it away before Mia could see it.

"Grandma, you can cry, it's okay." Clarisse nodded and looked up from the paper she had rested on the side of the Mustang.

"Full name?" She choked, breathing in deeply.

"What ever you feel comfortable with." Mia smiled, looking up at the puffy white clouds in the sky. This was her favorite kind of day. Spring.

"Okay, here." Clarisse handed her the paper and marker, wiping away another tear solemnly.

"No, you tie it to the balloon."

_I guess I can humor her. _Clarisse thought, trying to figure out what they were doing. "Okay."

"Now, close your eyes and envision Joe where you think he is now. In a better place." She paused and looked at Clarisse. "His spirit, not his body." Mia added at the slight cringe she saw Clarisse emit. "Then release the balloon."

"Release it?" She dropped her hand, looking shocked.

"Yea." Mia smiled. "I saw this on 'Desperate Housewives'."

"On 'Desperate Housewives'?" Well, that certainly didn't sound like a very proper show.

"Yea, when Gabby. . ."

"Who's Gabby?" She was thoroughly puzzled.

"Never mind. This is to symbolize letting go. Releasing your troubled spirit."

"I can't, Mia, it's too hard." She paused slightly, raising the balloon to the sky. "Besides, letting a balloon go is nothing but just that; letting a balloon go."

"But envision it being letting Joe go, Grandma. Let it work."

"Very well."

Release.

She watched as the black balloon floated away, carrying with it Joseph's full name. As she saw it disappear she almost felt as if she had been lifted a little. Almost as if it had worked as Mia had planned. "Thank you, Mia." She smiled weakly at her granddaughter. The power of suggestion was an amazing thing.


End file.
